


Sickly Sweet, But Good

by darklonelyspace



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Female Dragonborn is Drunk and Angry, First Meetings, Period-Typical Sexism, There is Justice However
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 11:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklonelyspace/pseuds/darklonelyspace
Summary: “Black-Briar Mead?” she questioned, reading the label.“Ay,” he affirmed. “The best mead you’ll find around these parts. Probably in all of Skyrim, if we’re being honest.”“I’ll be the judge of that,” she declared, taking it from him without celebration and tilting it back against her awaiting lips. He watched attentively. “Hmm,” she said after a moment, swallowing thickly. “It’s sickly sweet. But good in its own way, I guess.”“I think you’ll find that to be true concerning most things in this city,” he told her, grinning.





	Sickly Sweet, But Good

**Author's Note:**

> For a while now, I've wanted to write some nice Brynjolf interaction with the Dragonborn. Only, my character Valdalynn is definitely NOT sneaky thief material, so this is my attempt to wiggle around that little in-game meeting and create my own. Enjoy!

“You know, a young woman with your looks should be searching for a husband, not out chasing adventures and dealing with bandits and Talos only knows what else.” The girl in question paused, lowering her mug and regarding the bartender who had been watching her out of the corner of her eye for some time. The older woman smiled as if sharing a secret. “There’s no reason to struggle to take care of yourself when there’s more than enough men out here who would be willing to do it for you.”

“What makes you think I’m struggling?” the girl countered, eyebrows furrowing at what she obviously perceived to be a challenge. “I don’t need a husband to survive. I can take care of myself just fine.”

The older woman only laughed. “Child,” she tutted, either not noticing or ignoring the way her patron’s head snapped in her direction. “It’s time to grow up. Men are not the silly boys you knew once upon a time. They’re responsible and provide for you when your goals don’t work out the way you wanted them to. You’ll see that soon enough —you’re around the age when you begin to realize your place.”

By the time she was done, the girl was starting to glower in indignation. “Fires of Oblivion,” she growled, clenching her mug. “Don’t speak as if you know me. I will do whatever I damn well please.”

“Such language!”

Not offering an apology, the insulted patron downed her mead aggressively, shoulders squared as if ready for a fight and eyes darting about like she was daring someone else to provoke her.

“You know,” the older woman continued after a pensive pause, “I often find that fiery lasses like you are really only so because you crave affection more than anyone else. It makes sense. You act the way that you do because you are envious of other women who have loving husbands—”

“Come now, Hilda, leave the poor girl alone,” her spouse, the owner of the bar, said disinterestedly. He lit a cigar from his place by the hearth, inhaled, and then muttered through the smoke, “Skyrim needs all the sword-hands she can get nowadays. Let the lass do as she will.”

Hilda bristled. “I was just saying that it’s unfit for a lady to prance around in armor pretending to be a warrior.”

“Pretending!” The girl had had enough, it seemed. She slammed her mead to the table with a loud bang and rose from her seat to jab a finger at the bartender. “You’d best watch your tongue before I rip it out!”

The bartender stuttered, eyes wide, while her husband rushed to the scene with newfound attentiveness. “Lady or not, that is no way to talk to my wife!” he exclaimed after the girl’s outburst, grabbing her by her vambrace and holding firm. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave my tavern right now, young miss, before I call the guards!”

Looking as if she were about to start spewing fire, the girl snarled and ripped her arm from his grasp. “Fine! I wasn’t enjoying this place anyhow!” She was storming her way to the exit when Hilda squawked for payment in a tone suggesting that she wasn’t quite sure it was a good idea to ask or not. Her husband’s backwards glance at her was answer enough. Still, the warrior paused, then reached for something at her side while marching up towards the counter again.

The bartender yelped and her husband gasped, but when the girl reached them she merely slammed down a handful of septims onto the wood and then swirled away once more, hissing, “Keep the change. You’ll need it if you treat all your customers this way.”

‘The change’ was a lot more than what was owed, and the couple seemed torn between gawking at the girl leaving and ogling all the gold she had just poisonously given them. The coin won in the end, and they were beside themselves counting their undeserved profits as the door to the tavern slammed shut with enough force to shake the walls.

It was then that Brynjolf decided to slink from the corner and follow the departure of the unusual visitor, smirking as he heard the couple muttering hurriedly amongst themselves.

“Should I call her back?”

“No, no! Did you not hear what she said to me?”

“But the gold…”

It was not hard to find the lass; she was leaning against a railing of the city just in front of the tavern she had left, gazing down into the murky waters of the lake, body tense.

“Quite a bit of a scene you created back there, lass.”

She jerked her head towards him, blue eyes hard. “I’ll make another one here if you think you can disrespect me, too.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he purred. “I thought you put them in their place quite nicely. You should have seen them drooling over the payment you gave them.” She scoffed. “Of course,” he ventured, leaning against the wooden railing beside her, “now that you’ve wasted all of your coin on those greedy people, I suspect now you’ll have no choice but to find work.”

The slight furrow of bewilderment in her brow was more than enough to tell him what he needed, but she blindly admitted to it anyhow, no doubt thinking it another challenge. “I have a lot more gold than that.”

“Do you?” He feigned surprise. “You must be a fine warrior, then.”

She grinned toothily. “I’m more than fine.”

A genuine laugh escaped him. “Then it’s an even bigger shame that those pigs kicked you out. How about I offer you compensation?” She raised an eyebrow, and he presented her a bottle he had been saving for the moment a person just like her came along.

“Black-Briar Mead?” she questioned, reading the label.

“Ay,” he affirmed. “The best mead you’ll find around these parts. Probably in all of Skyrim, if we’re being honest.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she declared, taking it from him without celebration and tilting it back against her awaiting lips. He watched attentively. “Hmm,” she said after a moment, swallowing thickly. “It’s sickly sweet. But good in its own way, I guess.”

“I think you’ll find that to be true concerning most things in this city,” he told her, grinning. She studied him, seemingly intrigued, and he knew he had her. “I work for a very important person,” he admitted, watching as her expression shifted to something akin to suspicion. “She’s a shrewd business owner and appreciates talent where others” —he tilted his head to the tavern behind them— “do not. You’d be working for someone who knows the uses of a warrior, and has the coin to pay them.”

She was quiet for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t want to work for somebody else as a simple mercenary. I’m doing fine on my own. Besides, I don’t even know you or her.”

“The name’s Brynjolf.”

“Well, Brynjolf, I’d best be on my way. Thanks for the mead.” She began to walk away, then hesitated. “Do I owe you anything?”

He waved her off. “My treat.”

“Thanks.” She turned to leave.

“Oh, and lass…” She stopped. “I never did catch your name.”

It was then that she flashed him another smile.

“You’ll be hearing it all across Skyrim soon enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please leave kudos or a comment! I live for feedback!


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